His Glowing Reputation
by Pensieve Plotter
Summary: Schoolboy Voldemort gets detention from Dumbledore. Horrific things go on in the trophy room. Young Voldemort harbors deviant secrets of things he did while at Hogwarts. Complete except for substantial editing going on.
1. Sex in the Dungeons

Dear Dr

I hope you like this story…I'm kind of writing it to please myself. The star Ravenclaw in my story is my invention of a relative of Luna Lovegood! I think it shall be her great aunt.

Please Review!

Chapter One: Sex in the Dungeons

Tom Riddle led his latest catch: a Ravenclaw down the hallway, holding her sweating hand.

The dirty blonde hair swung over her shoulders, and her opalescent blue eyes glanced up at Riddle adoringly.

They hurried down a narrow spiral staircase.

Celeste was feeling wonderful today. As a Ravenclaw who values wit and learning above all else, she was particularly proud to be dating the sharpest boy in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All the girls in her year had been aching with jealously when Tom had asked her to Madam Puddifoot's in the Great Hall last week.

Once they got down the stairs, Riddle lit his wand and his voice became an unusually low whisper, "Come on, Celeste!,"

The girl, a seventh year, two years above Tom and eighteen-years of age, hesitated. She had never been in this area of the school.

After a pause she mumbled, "Okay…" And with that Celeste plunged forward into the darkest nether regions of the castle.

Celeste reasoned that she knew Tom had to go to Transfiguration in a quarter of an hour… they couldn't be staying in this creepy dwelling too long.

For a few minutes they continued onward through the labyrinth, deep into the upper layer of the dungeons. Celeste shuddered at the thought of the lowest dungeon below, where the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle dished out brutal punishments to the worst rule-breakers. Her spirit of adventure went about as far as the present, yet she knew with Tom Riddle there was likely to be no boundaries he wouldn't cross.

"This looks just fine…," Riddle pleasantly simpered. He took Celeste's thin arm and rather roughly pushed her into the tiny crevice of a room. Celeste's breath was taken away, Tom was always impeccably polite, a perfect gentlemen. So why was he suddenly so forceful?

The dank, dark space only contained a chink of light. Yet Riddle moved fluidly through the shadows, and took out a potion vial from his school uniform.

"It doesn't look very cozy, Tom," Celeste made the belated comment to Riddle's note of the place several moments ago.

Riddle's mouth twitched, with a secret humor concealed inside. "Why don't you sit down Celeste?"

She obeyed, as she was used to listening to him. That was part of the reason Riddle had chosen her as one of his latest flings. He liked the girls he knew would consent to his commanding demeanor. Obedience, is a virtue that Riddle prized particularly. Except for when it came to himself. Riddle always excluded himself, understanding it was only temporary that he had to listen to his so-called higher authorities in the present: the staff at Hogwarts.

In one sweeping instance, Tom Riddle's black school robes slid from behind his broad shoulders and settled on the ground. Now just wearing his muggle attire (a gray jumper and tie with grey pants) he knelt in front of Celeste, peering in her eyes, with a gleaming intensity, "Ready for something new, Miss Celeste?"

Not waiting for a reply and acting aggressive, Riddle undid the belt of his pants, and lowered them including his briefs. Celeste gasped. She was a virgin. Even if she had been with most of the boys in her year, and she had never had intercourse at all.

Riddle grabbed the glass potion vial, uncorking it deftly with thumb and forefinger. Caressing a clear liquid with his long fingers onto his erect penis he explained, "This is a potion, so you won't get pregnant. Ready to serve the young Dark Lord's…most basic desires?

Celeste gazed at Tom in appalling horror, she felt like she had never seen this side of him before. "Th—the future what?…Tom! I only wanted to do snogging! Not today….Please Riddle?"

Her frail backside was still against the wall, with her knees propped up; an instinctive protection against penetration.

Riddle did not respond immediately. He swallowed hard gulping down fury, his eyes narrowing.

And then his dark eyes were glaring into Celeste's sky blue ones. He hissed, "What do you think we came down here for? Certainly not to enjoy the atmosphere…" Riddle laughed humorlessly.

Celeste didn't answer, but from tension her hands moved to cling to her ankles. "Here's a parting kiss as you leave virginity, and enter into the full flower of womanhood, Celeste," he murmured sarcastically, as his lips brushed hers for a brief instant.

Next second, not even a prolonged kiss and his hands grabbed her shoulders and he slammed her forward. Celeste coughed from dust coming up from the dirty floor, clouds of it filling her nostrils and mouth. Riddle had no concern, despite hearing her wracking coughs.

He rolled her over, to the supine, position against the back. Riddle maneuvered himself directly on top, and then held her wrists down.

Beastially, he smiled as he whipped his wand out. Celeste stopped all attempts to resist, and just started panting hard, staring at him looming above her. With rabid eagerness, Riddle lifted up the Ravenclaw witch's skirt. Next he tore her white cotton knickers in two, opening up to a rich display of pubic hair.

Riddle stuck two of his fingers in her playfully, swishing through the folds of vaginal tissues, around to the clitoris.

Celeste moaned yet still managed to argue, "Tom…I don't want to! No…I beg you…. ."

"Well, I can hardly call that begging, silly little cunt. Don't you see how wet, you are? Wet with wanting myself inside you. I shall provide you that pleasure, in return serving me mine."

The moment he stopped taking, Celeste was letting out piercing screams of agony, as Riddle's exceptionally large cock invaded her.

He pumped his cock inside, moving in and out almost too fast. For it just wasn't enough for him, he didn't have enough time to finish to reach orgasm, because he had a Transfiguration exam. Riddle was almost never late for a class at all, and would never miss an exam.

But he still had not gotten enough pleasure for one session with his latest fling. Celeste Lovegood, was only a fling in his mind. Sixteen-year-old Voldemort did not really think of her as his girlfriend, he felt no true affection for her.

Celeste was in too much pain to focus, from her cherry popping and the drops of blood and semen frightened her squeamish self.

Yet finally, he let himself out of her sore vaginal passage and flipped her onto her stomach, her jaw impacting the cement floor, bruising it. He spread her legs wide.

Riddle started pumping through Celeste's buttocks. She finally decided to play along and enjoy their sexual activity. "Harder, Tom!," she squealed. She arched her back, the boobs aligning with the floor.

Timidly Celeste asked Tom for a sexual favor she had never asked any other boy, but Riddle was the only boy she would want to have it done for her: "Could you s-spank me?"

Riddle smirked at this. It wasn't a fantasy of his, but he decided to briefly give it a try. He raised his hand and laid a hard swat on her raised bottom. Surprisingly, it was quite stimulating to his natural sadism, especially when he heard her screech from the sting and getting to watch her creamy cheeks turn apple red.

He gave another hard slap and another and another, whilst simultaneously smacking his cock inside her. She moaned loudly with the pleasure.

After that, Tom was losing interest in it, especially as he didn't have time to explore his own fantasies, much darker fantasies than a spanking.

"Get up!…"

She quickly did so, straightening her skirt and blushing. It was somewhat hard to look at Tom Riddle after this.

"You're a good girl to your master, Celeste…. Yet I prefer using the Cruciatus curse next time" he remarked with amusement. Celeste could not discern if he was lying.

She finally looked at him, batting her feathery lashes, staring mesmerized at Tom Riddle's handsome features. She had not wanted sex, but now she had to agree he had given her something unforgettable, and she did not feel like she had been raped. Tom turned his back to her, and did the vanishing spell to remove the evidence of blood and semen from his robes and then he vanished the torn knickers.

Riddle raised his wand, and eyed Celeste shrwedly. Until confidently he dictated, "Obliviate." Instantly, there was a blue light shot towards Celeste's head, her vision became cross-eyed for a second and then she had forgotten what had just happened. She would never be able to recall it.

The next thing she saw was Riddle smiling at her, his lips pressed together, seemingly benign, but in actuality deviant. He lied convincingly, "I forgot about my Transfiguration exam. Come on!"

Tom Riddle had his arm firmly around her shoulders. They walked at a fast pace, and finally parted. Riddle hurried off to his Transfiguration lesson realizing he was several minutes late.

Riddle came up the seventh floor corridor and entered Dumbledore's Transfiguration classroom as quietly as possible.

Riddle landed at his usual seat in the last row. Most quills did not stop their scratching against parchment.

Before starting the exam, which was waiting for him, Riddle looked up at the teacher's desk in the front. Professor Dumbledore was looking straight at him, with a sharp glare that told Tom the Transfiguration Master was displeased, especially considering the glare was visible even through the half-moon spectacles.

Riddle frowned and then bent his head over the paper and started writing.

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	2. Tom Riddle: Detention!

Riddle managed to finish the fifth year level exam on time, feeling confident he had achieved an O (which stood for "Outstanding") as he almost always does.

Jotting down his last sentence to one of the twenty elaborate questions, he heard a deep voice speak beside him from above, "What's your excuse for being a quarter of an hour late, Tom?"

On the pretext of handing his paper to Dumbledore's outstretched hand, Riddle bid his time. Then looked into the old man's clear blue eyes while performing occlumency. "…I've just been busy, sir. There's been schoolwork and friends to catch up with," he casually responded.

Riddle rose in a relaxed posture, sure he was off the hook and gathered his books to leave. Turning around to depart Dumbledore spoke again, "I know you're hiding a lot of things, Tom. Your relationships have nothing to do with friendship, something you sadly do not understand."

Riddle was now genuinely nettled . He stopped and finally turned his full attention on his teacher. Feeling suspicious, his dark eyes narrowed. What could Dumbledore know? Did he somehow know he'd just had sex with Celeste Lovegood?…Or worse was he suspecting once again that he was the Heir of Slytherin unleashing the horrors on the school?

"I have work to complete, sir. I need to leave," he reported in a cold, expressionless tone.

"Not until I have had my say, Tom. Now…I've been keeping an eye on you for I know you're lieing about your activities. You have not been busy, rather pre-occupied with something. You were also late for an important exam. Therefore, I think it's reasonable for you to have detention this Friday evening at seven o'clock in my office."

Riddle gulped, and glared at Dumbledore. He was speechless. In all his five years at Hogwarts he had never, ever been given detention!

Knowing it was pointless to argue he icily responded, "Yes, professor." 

Turning on his heel he left the room, furious.


	3. The Mirror Passage

Later that day, Tom spied Celeste making her way towards him as he neared the Slytherin Common Room from the opposite direction.

"TOM!" she screamed like an obsessed fan girl of a celebrity.

Riddle smiled mechanically, at Celeste as she came closer, wrapping her arms around him, hugging herself against his broad chest lightly, and then standing on tiptoe to kiss him on his full lips.

"How was your day?"

"Oh, absolutely brilliant," he scoffed.

"What happened?" Celeste asked quizzically, raising her feathery eyebrows.

"Well…the old fool Dumbledore gave me detention," Riddle answered in a low voice. Then as an afterthought he added, "You're not to say a word to anyone, Celeste."

"I won't, I swear. I wouldn't want to, Tom….But why would he-?"

Answering quickly Riddle said imperiously, "Because he can't keep his crooked nose out of my private affairs. Dumbledore gave me detention as an excuse to meddle in everything I do."

As they conversed, they made their way to a concealed secret passageway on the fourth floor, behind a wall, that was a mirror. Only a very few of the students in the school had ever discovered this passage.

The two slipped into the secret room, as if it was the barrier at platform nine-and-three-quarters. Celeste was feeling very upset for her "boyfriend's" prospects. She knew he enjoyed his perfect record and now it was being put in jeopardy.

Once inside the secret passageway behind the mirror, Riddle fixed his eyes with a hard stare onto Celeste. She felt her mind spinning. Celeste did not know that the magic was legilimency, yet she was becoming mutinous, angry over her confusion.

"Stop! You're doing that weird thing again!….Why must you…play with my mind every time, Tom?!"

After Riddle had scanned the experiences at the forefront of her mind for that day, he said, "Because I do it every chance I get. You understand, Celeste. You know how powerful I am, the greatest sorcerer."

He edged closer to her as if it was a seductive move and Celeste, instinctively backed away until she was against the wall opposite the mirror entrance.

Riddle suddenly grabbed a taut fistful of her scalp of dirty-blonde hair, forcing her to look straight up at him. He smiled something maniacal, yet almost bestial. In eagerness, his lips started brushing her neck roughly and then he was pulling her robes off.

She pushed him back, and screamed, "We need to talk! Before we do it again."

Riddle instantly restrained himself. Yet his white teeth bared.

"Fine, Celeste. Speak to your heart's content. I'm listening," Riddle said, laying the charm on.

Celeste took a deep breath then began, "We've been going together for two weeks. But I don't feel you're close to me, Tom. I still feel like you're a paradox. An intimate stranger."

Riddle laughed a heartless laugh at Celeste's Ravenclaw mind. Thinking how she always has to overanalyze things.

"You know what I need to hear…so tell me," Celeste said, in a soft, breathy whisper. She was no longer angry, just expecting something special that she wanted from him. 

She waited expectantly for Riddle to respond, "We'll have more alone time next week after I finish something being organized in the Dark Order. But for now…why not just switch from the talking and get straight to my desire to dominate you, my-"

Celeste shook her head violently and in one second she had slapped Tom Riddle as hard as she could across his handsome face. Celeste had wanted to hear Riddle say that he loved her.

She was going to explain what she wanted, when she in his eyes a red gleam that flashed like a bolt of lightning. She surmised that he was terribly angry that she had hit him. Before she could think, Celeste was dashing out the mirror passage and back along the corridor.

Riddle stayed rooted to the spot, clutching his hollow cheek, somewhat confused as to why Celeste had slapped him.


	4. A Different Arrangement

On Friday evening, Riddle had been spending his last few hours of freedom before the detention he was dreading, begrudgingly helping Rabastan Lestrange and Avery with Defence Against the Dark Arts essays, whilst he studied as well.

Nervously, he tapped his quill just about finished writing his own spectacular essay that neither of the other boys were permitted to copy. Riddle always explained to them that his "scholarship was too seminal" and how obvious it would be that they were plagiarizing his work.

"Completely erroneous conclusion, Lestrange. Write it out again and then I'll fix whatever other mistakes you make," Riddle admonished his follower.

Lestrange didn't answer, but just assented to it without a thought.

Riddle peered over at Avery's and nodded curtly, so far it was good enough that it didn't need any revision. Avery had only just gotten started with the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, as he was way behind in other subjects that he needed to catch up in.

Riddle checked the time on his wristwatch, and unexpectedly jumped out of his chair. "Oh, I just recalled I have to go to the library to get astronomy charts. I'll leave my books here. So look up the Impedimenta jinx yourself."

Avery shook his head slowly and sighed, "Always in a rush off to the library, Riddle. You might as well get a bunker to sleep in there."

Riddle quietly stalked out of the Slytherin common room without a response. He was not going to be late and risk Dumbledore once again ridiculously suspicious over him and what was worse get another detention.

Heading up the entrance hall's main staircase, he saw Professor Slughorn standing as if waiting for somebody at the foot of the first landing.

As soon as Slughorn saw him he quipped, "I have good news and bad news for you, m'boy."

"Concerning what, sir?" Riddle asked, he had a hunch it had something to do with Dumbledore.

"The detention Professor Dumbledore gave you. The good news is when I heard from Albus at dinner on Tuesday…I reminded him how I'm your head of house and can ask the headmaster to override it. I'm sure you're aware Armando has a very high opinion of you, Tom. So of course when I asked Professor Dippet to override the detention, it happened quite easily….But the bad news is that I have to take you to the headmaster's office now."

"Why is that necessary professor? I don't see a reason behind this. Considering I've been let off for it," Riddle politely conjectured.

He bit his lower lip feeling intense apprehension. Riddle felt sure Slughorn was keeping from divulging something that may upset him.

Beating around the bush, Slughorn began evasively, "Er…I suppose Professor Dippet wishes to congratulate you for your completely unblemished disciplinary record."

They continued on their way until they stopped in front of the gargoyle entrance.

"Horn rimmed spectacles," was muttered by Slughorn and the gargoyles leapt aside.

The two crossed the threshold and then the staircase was ascended into the private study of headmaster, Armando Dippet.

Riddle quickly grasped the gryffin knocker of the polished oak door once they got to the summit, without any qualms. It made a loud sound, as it banged against the door. Clearly, Riddle had no idea that he was going to receive some other punishment. But Slughorn who had not been told any specifics, felt intuitively that it might be the case. The Potions Master sincerely hoped he was wrong.

"Enter," issued the weary sounding tone of the headmaster of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle turned the brass doorknob and entered the beautiful circular room.

Riddle stopped dead with unpleasant shock, when he saw the Transfiguration teacher he despised present. Dumbledore was clad in unusual onyx black robes standing casually, in front of Dippet who was seated at his desk. It finally dawned on Riddle that he was definitely still in trouble. If not detention, then what?


	5. Lord Voldemort's Retribution

"Good evening Professor Dumbledore - Professor Dippet

"Good evening Professor Dumbledore - Professor Dippet. You wanted to see me headmaster?"

"Yes, we did. Take a seat Riddle" said Dumbledore gravely.

Riddle obeyed, going towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of the headmaster's desk, and Slughorn followed to sit beside him. Dumbledore moved behind Riddle putting his aged, creased hands on the back of Riddle's chair.

Dippet patiently began, "Now, Tom considering that you are a prefect as well as a great student, nobody here is angry with you. Neither is anybody here against you. What shall be done is for your own welfare."

For some reason, Dippet nodded at Dumbledore because Dumbledore had advised him to say exactly that.

"Yet what Professor Dumbledore told me is very important, Tom. And so, I would also like to hear the truth from you."

"The truth about what, sir?" Riddle dared to interrupt, cautiously.

"I'll let Albus explain." Dippet motioned to Dumbledore to speak.

Dumbledore moved to face Riddle from the side of the desk.

"Tom, you have no doubt lied repeatedly when I've questioned you on occasion regarding your whereabouts. When you were late for my class, I knew it had to have been for a reason. Why don't you tell us exactly what has been preoccupying you?"

Riddle did not answer immediately. He grasped his hands around the armrests, the knuckles whitening.

Riddle said with a dry-sounding innocence, "That was the first time I was ever tardy, professor. It was only an honest mistake." He glanced surreptiously at Dippet. He wanted the headmaster to think he was a typical good boy, as it works so well for his image.

Dumbledore sighed exasperatedly. Seeing he was not going to get anything out of the boy, he addressed the headmaster, "Yes, Tom Riddle has exemplary behavior and is obedient to authority...However, there is an underlying issue at stake and it must be looked at closely, for it is much more serious than Riddle being late for my exam. I still think, he may have a hand in the chamber incident, yet I do not think there is any good that can come by caning the boy. I already know such a punishment will fail to get any confession out at all."

"Caning?!" Riddle exclaimed, startled. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't know that was an option at Hogwarts," he added with forced objectivity.

He silently recalled when he was a first year and had asked a prefect what happened to rulebreakers for less severe infractions, because certainly there was something other than expulsion, as Dumbledore had warned him of in the orphanage. Riddle had thought at the time that Hogwarts might enforce physical discipline. In Wool's Orphanage he had read about another British public school called Eton. He was happy to hear from the prefect that he could rest assured that he wouldn't be caned at Hogwarts as long as he was reasonably obedient.

"Yes, well in your case, Riddle there can be no other option. I don't wish to sully your perfect academic record, as detention would be put onto your record. But a caning will not tarnish it," Dippet said reasonably.

Riddle gulped down his disapproval at these words. He would soon as not be punished at all! He didn't deserve it!

Riddle eyed Slughorn next to him, growing irritated. For Slughorn looked nervous, sweat trickling down the man's forehead and much too weak to defend him. He scowled at Slughorn who continued to not say anything.

Headmaster Dippet got up rather quickly and went to a cabinet. He returned with a rattan type cane that had a hooked handle, 12 ounces, thick, yet slender too.

Tom gritted his teeth, he wasn't exactly scared of the pain, more the humiliation.

Slughorn voiced passively, "I think it's best if you stand up, Tom and take it like a man."

Riddle stood rigidly and stared appalled at the headmaster solemnly holding the cane.

"I'm sure this shall prove an effective deterrence in the future. And you won't be the first student caned since I've been headmaster," said Dippet in annoyingly pleasurable tone, that clearly conveyed that he had no qualms about corporal punishment.  
"Yet since Albus issued the detention, it proceeds logically for the responsibility to be delegated to him."

Dumbledore firmly answered, "No. I don't believe in manhandling any student, Armando. Even if I never liked Tom Riddle, I do not believe in the cane."

Dippet looked over to the Slytherin head of house. Slughorn's rotund frame was slouched back in the chair, looking much too apprehensive to fulfill the task.

"Tom, I shall ask you once more.…Confess to the information regarding what Dumbledore claims you know about the Chamber of Secrets and I shall not punish you at all."

Riddle put his hands behind his back,an unconscious sign of dishonesty, "I have nothing to say, as I am not involved in the chamber incident..."

Knowing he was in for a rough time no matter what, Riddle in the heat of the moment added rudely, glaring only at Dumbledore, "And who would know better than myself what I've been doing?"

Dippet chose to ignore the condescending tone directed at Dumbledore. "I do believe you, boy. But Professor Dumbledore says he's aware you know something. And apparently, it's effecting your schoolwork. As your headmaster, I shall not tolerate this. Hopefully, a good whacking will prevent the distractions, which may I remind you, threaten your academic standing, (You were considerably late for an exam)..." Dippet had paused and then added rationally, "Do you think it better for I to cane you for dishonesty, rather than have you in detention for the same?"

Riddle did not answer at once, but looked down at the floor for several moments. Finally, he looked up and answered stiffly, "…I suppose it's better than detention, sir for that would hurt my reputation."

Dippet concluded, speaking in a mildly pleased tone at the boy's decision, "Very well, then. Disrobe and bend over that desk there." Inwardly, Riddle held back his irritation for it greatly annoyed him to detect Dippet was pleased to hear he had agreed. For this was something Riddle believed he was being coerced into.

Dippet pointed with the cane towards one of the desks, a little larger than typical, the size of a square table.

Riddle couldn't make a move. He felt enraged over the situation. It licked and burned white inside him. Impulsively, he roared, "But I should not have ever been given a detention in the first place!….I don't deserve any kind of punishment!"

It was said in the most commanding tone, and it shocked the three men as well as the portraits watching.

"Incorrigble venom, young man. In my day, it would be six of the best!" sneered the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, as several other former heads sneered at the schoolboy's blatant disapproval of the headmaster.

Dumbledore suddenly sprung forward, electrified. Riddle's outburst had struck a cord with his feelings for the real Tom Riddle he had met in that muggle orphanage. He took the cane from Dippet's wiry hands. Armando smiled faintly, glad not to inflict this personally onto his favorite pupil. He hadn't really wanted to, and he was afraid he would have been soft on the fifth year.

Dumbledore strode over to the table Dippet had mentioned, "The rules do indeed apply to you, Riddle. Unfortunately, there is no punishment I could give to take that darkness out, but maybe I can extract some of the defiance...

"Disrobe this instant, and come here, Tom."

Riddle lazily unclasped all the silver fastenings at the front of his robes and stood in his muggle attire. He was still wearing a blazer, that would protect him from the worst of the blows that were sure to cut into his delicate skin.

Dumbledore sternly ordered, "The blazer comes off as well."

Young Voldemort did so, throwing both his robe with his wand and other items contained inside, along with the blazer onto the chair. He did not drag his feet, though his insides felt like lead, as he went towards Dumbledore waiting. He went slowly, erect, clearly trying to be dignified.

He eyed the cane with strange malevolence for a second, before lowering himself as Dippet had instructed. Quite the opposite from being nervous, he was calm, and Dippet thought the boy was very brave. However, Riddle only complied to the bare minimum, hardly bent over at all.

Slughorn, meanwhile, stood up and went to observe with the other two men, despite his reluctance to watch.

"Riddle you are more than capable of knowing to bend over further," the Deputy headmaster, Dumbledore said, with an edge, irritated.

"It will all be over soon, Tom. Just do as Professor Dumbledore says," coaxed Horace Slughorn sympathetically.

Riddle pushed his waist forward, ignoring Slughorn. He was finally against the surface of the table, and his entire behind was salient at the edge. He supressed a shudder as he felt Dumbledore's hands on his back. Dumbledore lifted Riddle's crisp white linen shirt from where it was tucked in under his pants, so that it came out, and then he left it turned up. Riddle felt anger knowing that his plain black suit pants were to be the only coverage along with threadbare briefs.

Riddle inwardly seethed at the submissive situation, one that he had never envisaged he would be placed into. Yet here he was, the man the Wizarding world would one day know as Lord Voldemort: a schoolboy about to get the cane in the headmaster's office and not just from any old teacher, but that freak, Albus Dumbledore!

"You will count each stroke, after each one, Tom. Likewise, it will be very painful, but you must not get up or move. Is this clear?"

"Yes, professor," Riddle responded colorlessly.

"Thank-you," said Dumbledore politely, but crisply. Dumbledore was glad the boy was finally willing to cooperate to the inevitability of the situation.

Dumbledore stalled a moment, measuring the distance. He was going to apply as much force as he could muster without magic. Tom was quiet, his face perfectly blank. The complete lack of fear was truly startling to the men, but there could be no doubt Tom Riddle did not believe he deserved it at all.

Riddle gripped his hands over the desk, and clenched his teeth. He was determined not to give Dumbledore what he believed would be the pleasure of knowing it had hurt. He was well aware it would be terrible pain, and Riddle was determined not to let it show in his bodily response.

He felt the cane brush against the backside, somewhat teasingly and then there was a snake-like hiss.

Tom blinked and felt the crashing sting of the first blow, right at the spot Dumbledore had measured out.

"One, sir…" he mumbled, actually embarrassed, color rising up his neck into his pale face.

He felt Dumbledore mark where the next would go, hearing a tap as it went against him. Riddle's insides coiled with expectation.

Whoosh. Dumbledore had drawn up the cane and then it started accelerating in a swing towards Tom Riddle's raised buttocks.

Crack. "Two, sir" he whispered the second after it struck. His reaction was none that any of the three teachers had ever seen before with corporal punishment, it seemed Riddle was immune to pain.

Riddle could not sit with the fact of getting four more, as he was sure he was getting six of the best. He thought, as Dumbledore briefly tapped the cane lightly again, his backside was already stinging in waves and even worse, it was starting to feel like his skin was burning.

Whoosh. And at the thought of the sensations, the third stroke came with another crack, and he paused a second and then said obstinately, "Three, sir."

Riddle had the urge to rub his hands back there to relieve it. But he knew not to try, and as the terrible rattan cane impacted his seared skin for the fourth time he yelled from sheer anger, mainly directed towards Dumbledore, "Four sir!"

He wished Dumbledore could end it, but the idea of mercy was not in Riddle's mind, to him that option could never be done. He would never beg for it to cease. He felt Dumbledore laying out where the next cut would go.

Whoosh. Crack. "Five sir!," he yelled as yet another stinging blow landed on the exact spot the fourth one had been.

Riddle's breath remained eerily calm, as Dumbledore prepared for another smack, which was to be on the most sensitive area.

With a mighty swatting crack it impacted just below the buttocks at the edge of the thighs where it hurts the worst, "SIX, SIR!"

He jumped up thinking he was done with the chastisement, but Riddle felt a hand squeeze at his back, between the shoulder-blades and Dumbledore saying calmly, "One more, Tom."

Dumbledore raised the cane expertly, poised at an arc, in a way that only someone like he could deliver. The final blow whooshed downward and hit Riddle's flesh diagonally, so that it went across all the other stripes that were surely on his bottom.

"S-seven, sir" he somehow whispered, his voice constrained and controlled, so that it seemed like he wasn't experiencing pain.

The silence filled the circular room now that the horrible interlude was over, so that the ticking of a grandfather clock rang clearly.

Dippet tried to help Riddle to stand up straight, but he resisted, instead recovering on his own.

Greatly agitated, Riddle turned around to face the three of his teachers, hands in fists at his sides, mouth set in a thin, grim line, desensitized.

He continued to feel the burning, fiery sensations in intermittant waves, that was gradually wearing off to an intense glow. Riddle's dark eyes rested on his head of house, who wasn't looking in his direction. Slughorn, he knew had been too upset to watch his punishment in progress.

"Did you learn your lesson, Riddle?" Dippet asked mildly.

For an instant, Riddle's expression went from blankness to pronounced hardness, and his hands went clapsed behind his back again. He wished he could admit how he wasn't the least bit abashed and had not learned a thing from the ordeal and never could. How nothing would prevent him from doing whatever he desired. But did he want to go through that humiliation again, eventually? Of course not!

"Yes, headmaster" Riddle expressionlessly assented.

"You will then be honest... and hopefully I won't have you in here for another caning."

"No, sir. No. Never," he ennunciated clearly and he meant it.

Riddle's dark eyes peered, narrowing at Dumbledore, daring to look at the man who had beaten him. He was going to pay for this, one day. It just gave Tom another reason to want to kill him. He saw that Dumbledore had a look of great sadness upon his face. Riddle couldn't stand to look at it, for Riddle couldn't stand crying or even a remotely morose attitude.

Dumbledore surveyed Tom through his half-moon spectacles. The Transfiguration teacher was realizing he had made a huge mistake. It had been pointless to have used corporal punishment on such a dangerous wizard, even if he was still a child. Afterall, nobody else at Hogwarts had an inkling of an idea of the cruelty Tom Riddle indulged in. The end result of the harsh discipline was surely going to develop Tom Riddle's enmity towards Dumbledore even more and what was more, Dumbledore speculated it would cause Riddle to inflict even greater harm onto others.

"You may go then, Riddle," Headmaster Dippet said casually, pacing back over to his desk, after handing the handsome boy his robes and blazer.

Riddle pulled on his other clothing, Slughorn and Dumbledore in his wake. He hoped he wouldn't have to talk.


	6. Essence of Murtlap

The three wizards went down the descending spiral stairs, striding in silence away from the headmaster's quarters and out towards their destinations'.

Dumbledore took a watch out with several planets revolving around the hands. "It is getting late, Horace. Why nearly eight o'clock? As that muggle philosopher said, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy and wise." Dumbledore just mistakened Benjamin Franklin, for a philosopher, rather Franklin being a statesman.

Albus glanced sideways at Riddle's profile, out of curiosity. The boy had not reacted to this comment, except for a slight pursing of his full lips. Tom Riddle despised all muggles, and what was more he could not imagine why a great wizard like Dumbledore thought one of them worthy of quoting their verbatim.

With a whooshing of his onyx robes, Dumbledore scurried along a different corridor to wherever his private room was, located somewhere near the Gryffindor's tower.

Tom continued along with his head of house, a sour expression on his young face. He was not happy with how he had been punished at Hogwarts and this was the one place he felt at home and even the emotion of contentment. Tom was annoyed with what the repercussions for getting "detention" meant for him in the future. As in the unlikely yet still possible event there was a next time, despite himself being a model for good behavior. He knew that because the teachers wanted him to maintain his perfect, glowing reputation, he would probably get the cane once again instead of what everyone else was getting these days! And Riddle thought, seething: Professor Dippet lied about caning other students in the past. Riddle a great Legilimens, had perceived that the frail, wizened headmaster had never laid a finger on a student. Still in an odd, twisted way, Riddle could maybe grow to accept his own unusual circumstances of what the consequences of misdeameanors would bring him. Tom Riddle did think himself to be special afterall.

He managed to keep up the pace with Slughorn, as they turned from the main entrance stairs, and then left down towards the dungeons. Yet, Riddle was still in unnerved over what had just happened to him. He tried instead to think about his studies. But suddenly then, he noticed again the glowing sensation of where he had been beaten with that rattan cane by Dumbledore, and he just couldn't forget it. The unpleasant glowing sensation was fast turning into a blistering bruised soreness.

"Come to my office, Tom. I'll give you something to put on your…injuries," Slughorn delicately spoke.

Heat crept up Riddle's neck; reliving it, even as a verbal reminder with another was particular painful for him.

"No need to feel embarrassed around your old potions master. During my schooldays I was caned by then headmaster, Phineas Nigellus. Mind you, then I had one bottom instead of two!" And Slughorn chortled, as he waved his wand to untransfigure the wall to a door.

Riddle's expression remained stone cold at this joke. It had been hard enough to endure the humility of the punishment, but he did not find the slightest comfort by relating to other people about their similar experiences.

Tom bit his lip and forced himself to sound mild as he spoke ignoring Slughorn's reminiscing, "Professor Slughorn…What exactly is it that you wish to give me"?

"Just a bit of essence of murtlap, Tom" Slughorn nonchalantly quipped, and his squat frame settled down on one of his footstools, searching the lowest shelves for it.

"No thank-you, sir" spoke Riddle automatically.

Slughorn inclined his jaw up at Riddle standing in back of him and quite grimly said, "Riddle, take my nostalgia for when I was a schoolboy as certain proof: it's gonna' be hard to sit comfortably for a long time. So you'll need this."

Slughorn found the little crock of the liquid and placed it on his desk, as a gesture for Riddle to make his own choice of whether to take it.

Voldemort was about to leave without taking the help from his closest teacher out of pride, when several reasons as to why the murtlap would be advantageous at a later time crossed his mind. He had already ascertained long before that it would be hard to sit down, when he was in the headmaster's office. Yet he didn't want Dumbledore to see even the slightest hint in Transfiguration class tomorrow, that it was difficult to stay seated. Furthermore, if he did fuck Celeste tomorrow, he didn't want to risk even the offhand chance that he would wind up explaining to her.

"Alright, then" he consented grabbing the crock, he tore out of the room.

"Anytime for Britain's future minister of magic, my boy!" Horace shouted after Riddle, his head poking out the doorway.

Riddle kept to himself for the rest of that evening, not even talking to his followers. Naturally, he first went to a bathroom inside the Slytherin quarters where he had to pee and then checked his reflection in the corner mirror.

He took off his robes and lowered his pants and glowered at what his backside looked like: dark red streaks striped his bottom along with one on the crevice to his thighs. A few seconds later, he hitched his pants and went back to the toilet, where he rubbed the essence of murtlap into his aching cheeks. After several moments, he couldn't stand how strange it felt to be relieving himself like this. He wanted to just get some rest and take his mind off it. He threw the crock back in the deep pocket of his robes and went off to his dormitory. 

I know…this is weird …I promise the next chapter, which has more of a point and Riddle does get revenge…but not on the person(s) you would logically think. And there is something interesting about the trophy room I'll be showing…. But don't you think it's cool to see a vulnerable Tom Riddle? All in one fic…he is late for an exam, gets "detention", gets slapped by a girl, embarrassed, even mention that despite being Voldy, he does go to the bathroom and the boy Riddle experiences the pain of corporal punishment. I still think my fic is realistic. Do you?


	7. Our Little Secret

The very next morning, Tom Riddle was resiliently returned to his normal self, or as normal as a disturbed young wizard could ever be. He was eating a breakfast of corn flakes and bacon with milk, while filling in answers to an arithmancy dilemma. The work was way above the fifth year standards, actually at N.E.W.T, and wasn't required of him. Yet Riddle savored the challenge, satisfying his voracious intellect. He maintained a stoic appearance, although he did lurch when he first sat down this morning, when he was reminded once again how Dumbledore dared to cane him yesterday evening. The hard, wooden bench was certainly proving to exacerbate the pain.

His agenda for the day, surfaced in his mind including a thought concerning his latest fling, Celeste Lovegood. Last time he had seen her, she had slapped him for his insensitivity with not understanding that she wanted to hear him say he loved her. Riddle thought little of the reason. All Tom wanted was to get her in his company this evening for his own entertainment.

He pushed aside the arithmancy problem, and on a blank piece of parchment in penmanship nearly as fancy as calligraphy, wrote:

Dearest Celeste:

Obviously you're upset over what commenced at our last rendezvous. I want to make it up to you. Meet me in the trophy room at half past six and we'll go someplace special. I'll give you all you've ever dreamed of getting from a wizard such as myself (and then some). Don't say a word about this excursion. It's to be our little secret!  
Until then:  
TM RIDDLE

He simply folded the parchment in thirds as if it was a regular letter, but lacking an envelope, which wasn't necessary anyway. All Tom needed to do was send it across the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw table and he knew just the one to do it for him.

"Avery…A little errand for you: Send this to the seventh year Ravenclaw, Celeste Lovegood. And make sure to be discrete!"

In a rush, Avery knocked the fork and knife he was eating from onto his plate. He took the note, and stood up, complacently affirming, "Yes, Riddle."

Riddle's follower obediently proceeded, going to the back of the Great Hall, across to where the Ravenclaw seventh years were, situated practically in their own, private corner.

"See that pureblood…er-Lovegood gets this," he mumbled, trying to make it sound dull.

About to place it, on the table up for grabs, as he didn't know which witch was Celeste Lovegood, a hand eagerly snatched it from Avery without so much as glancing at him.

"Thanks…" Celeste said, smiling. She knew it was probably from Tom.

Her opalescent blue eyes read the note, scanning it three times. As it sunk in, her eyes shimmered with tears. She felt happy that Riddle sounded willing to own up to his mistake and apologize. Almost in a daze of quiet joy, Celeste wandered to where she could be clearly visible from Riddle's location. She just stood from a distance, staring at Riddle, who was now smiling mildly at some joke Lestrange was telling.

Seconds later, Tom Riddle detected somebody's eyes on him, staring. He had this strange, unexplained ability that probably came from his legilimency powers. He caught Celeste's eyes, and made an insidious wink. She squeezed her hands in anticipation and excitement over thoughts of the romance she believed Riddle had planned for tonight, and went back to her place at the Ravenclaw table. She was awed by that mysterious, fifth year, Tom Riddle. Celeste had no idea her hopes for tonight were chimerical at best, and at worst, his attending to her was an ominous indication that Tom Riddle was anything but repentant.

After the first class of his day, history of magic, Riddle had Dumbledore to face in the transfiguration lesson.

Preparing for what would surely be an odious time, he entered the classroom at the last minute, taking a place in the very last row. This was not unusual for Tom Riddle to do in transfiguration. This was the only class, where he silently refused to answer questions despite knowing them, and this had always been the one class where he sat in the back, resentful of Dumbledore's authority over him.

As Dumbledore was lecturing on transfiguring portkeys, Riddle who usually paid the utmost attention even to Dumbledore, slipped into a daydream. He had a shifty look in his dark eyes as he fantasized about what he was planning to do with Celeste later. Licking his lips, a hungry desire to use the cruciatus curse consumed him. He continued his image of her writhing, in a cold, empty cavernous place.

"Riddle!," was echoed through the classroom, demandingly.

Tom snapped his head up and saw Dumbledore had been recapitulating the demonstration on how to make a port-key.

"Pay attention, Riddle," Professor Dumbledore said in a casual tone.

"Yes, sir. Of course," Tom assented, sounding innocent.

And then a second later, Riddle's face darkened to his true thoughts, no longer showing an innocent exterior as a persona, no longer being singled out. He frowned, and gulped as his eyes grew steely. He finally would focus his attention completely as he didn't want to give Dumbledore any reason to assign another "detention," which in actuality most likely would result in an eventual second dose of that terrible humiliation.

"Come up here and create a portkey for us," Dumbledore smoothly addressed.

Not used to taking part in the lesson, Riddle strode over to Dumbledore, looking the old man straight through his half-moon spectacles. He wasn't going to show any sign of intimidation, but nor was he going to be insubordinate. 

Without looking from the assortment in the box of everyday objects, he took out a rusty tin can and said confidently, "portus."

The object glowed blue, activated.

Dumbledore nodded, not surprised his pupil had succeeded, despite Riddle not paying attention before. He knew the boy's knowledge of magic was extensive, and that his abilities would in good time, rival that of his own, as Tom Riddle was undoubtedly a prodigy.

Shrugging, Riddle went back to his seat in the center of the last row. The rest of the hour went by uneventfully. Nothing noteworthy occurring until it was over, with everyone rushing off to the last class before the lunch break.

"Riddle, I must speak with you. Stay behind," Dumbledore called after the boy gently, before he could disappear in the jostling crowd right outside the door.

Riddle turned around, and was going to approach the transfiguration teacher's desk when he already stepped right over to him. It was just Riddle and Dumbledore left in the room, standing face to face, man to boy.

"I've never told you, Riddle. How you are a… privilege to teach. Being, perhaps the most talented genius ever to pass through Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, with a hint of affection and even pride.

"Thank-you," Riddle said most unnaturally. He had not sounded like he cherished this compliment coming from Dumbledore at all.

Professor Dumbledore went on, looking down wearily, chin in his hand, "And…I suppose I do regret caning y-"

Expelled from Riddle was a hiss of an irriated sneer. He glowered at Dumbledore, with absolute incredulity. Finally, suspecting that for all his goody-two-shoes philosophy Dumbledore believed in, Riddle still thought he contradicted his beliefs by sinking to the depths of trying to kiss up to him. He did not wager for a second that it was possible the man was truly sorry.

"I don't accept pity from anyone, professor," Riddle hollowly answered with finality, looking somehow inhuman.

He continued to brush his teacher off, turning to leave, and in seconds he was gone.

Professor Dumbledore just stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence.

Well...this story is turning out to be a little longer than I expected it..that's okay of course.


	8. Through the One Eyed Witch

Anyway...if any reader wishes to leave a review, go ahead. I won't mind if it is constructive criticism.  
The hallowed relics of the trophy room, called to young Voldemort's longing for recognition. Waiting for his girl to show up, he peered at the largest display case of shining cups in the hazy ambience of the revered room.

Nearly always punctual, Riddle checked his watch to see that it was half past six. He was expecting Celeste, but he wouldn't bother to admonish her if she was a few minutes late.

His long fingers, traced the rims of the cups, staring pensively into them as if he expected to see some type of object inside them. Inside most of the cups was something, and Riddle knew exactly what it was. 

"Tom…,"called Celeste dreamily.

Riddle turned around. She had done her dirty-blonde hair up in elegant ringlets with a flowered barrette at the crown of her head. Celeste's usually pale face was flushed. Although the seventh year Ravenclaw was just wearing her school uniform, it was obvious she was expecting something exciting. Riddle smirked.

Capriciously Riddle announced, "Let's go." And stepping forward, he steered Celeste out of the trophy room.

"Wait…Is this another secret passage like the mirror one? How many are there anyway? And how do you know so many, Tom?" Celeste remarked inquisitively.

They were making their way up to the fourth floor corridor.

"Well, I do in fact know almost all of them, Celeste. There is quite a bit of hidden stores of magic to tap at Hogwarts. Considering, how I, a fifth year, five years at this school and still looking for the last of the castle's secrets."

Riddle slowed down as he got closer to a statue of a one-eyed witch. He glanced around, making sure nobody was going to pop into view. Celeste was yanked forward pressed against him, as they darted behind it.

The tip of his wand, protruded from his robes, Tom whispered "dissendium." The humped backside of the witch, revealed a chasm, large enough for a single relatively slender person to slip through.

"You first, Miss Celeste," Riddle said kindly.

Celeste, full of trust, nodded. She stepped in and slid down a chute, only two meters long. Tom Riddle strolled down next as the sound of the witch's hump closed with a reverberating.

Riddle clinked down a ladder, methodically and Celeste followed. They were suspended in a heavy darkness, only the light of their wands to find their way. The place had a sepulchral air about it.

Celeste clung to Tom's arm feeling like she needed protection from whatever her imagination thought could come jumping out in this strange space. The walls were low, the whole place was filled with clumps of little hills of dirt and roots, so that it was hard to walk through without stumbling.

But they started walking, Riddle quite airily despite the rocky path.

Celeste was trembling, "I'm scared, Tom. I'm quite keen to get out of this place to be honest."

Tom abruptly stopped his ruthless march.

"Oh Celeste! You silly girl! There is nothing to fear for you are with me," he said with simple confidence, playfully twisting a strand of her hair around his index finger.

"I know, you're a great wizard. But-this-does-not-feel-"

Suddenly, Tom cupped Celeste's face in his hands. She resisted, his tongue inside her mouth, but then his mouth was overwhelmingly full inside her. She felt herself consumed by him, and she grasped her hands over his back, embracing him as they continued a long, passionate kiss.

With a smacking sound, Tom released his lip's. His dark brown eye's scanned her blue ones, "Now how about that? Didn't that make you confident? Even brave Celeste? And you're feeling pleasure. That is what this evening is all about, Celeste. Your pleasure and mine."

With that, they continued the journey for about ten minutes. Celeste did not stop clinging to Riddle's upper-arm, scared she would get lost. They went downhill, until they reached a valley, at the deepest bowels of the secret passage. Higher ground was further on, but they ended their trek there.

"I do come down here often" Riddle said plaintively. It was true. Tom Riddle had been using the space that ran between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade for both some of the Dark Order meetings, and to conduct clandestine experiments for quite some time.

He raised his wand straight upward. At once, several black candles lining the sides of the area nearest them lit the baneful atmosphere with a misty blue light. 

Celeste just looked nervously around the vicinity. Alongside one of the walls, was a shelf with a cauldron and a pile of rare potion ingredients.

Riddle beckoned over to the other side, parallel the wall with the shelf. "We're just going to have a little chat initially…. But why not take off your robes, so I can see your beautiful figure?"

In actuality, young Voldemort also had the ulterior motive of depriving her of her wand inside her robes, in order to make it a faster overpowering of her later.

"Where am I going to put them? My robes are going to get filthy down here."

He compensated cooly, "Take them off anyway and we'll scourgify them later."

"Of course…Why didn't I think of that?" She slid her robes off from behind, and left them carelessly on the dirt floor.

Tom still in his school-robes, reclined crossed-legged on the moist mound of earth. He didn't feel the soreness of his glowing backside, this time. He was quite comfortable.

Celeste complained, "My skirt and everything is going to get filthy on this rank mud!" And then meekly she added an explanation, "I don't want to feel dirty when I'm with you, Tom."

"Then you may sit on my lap," Riddle responded directly, inwardly nettled by her prissy qualms.

Celeste bound forward, smartly sitting across his thighs, her legs curled on top of his.  
In the crook of his left arm, Riddle held Celeste by the shoulders, massaging them with his right, he was just venturing into putting her mind at ease.


	9. Dark Arts Erotica

I hope you're not really squeamish for this chapter... I'm really curious as to what someone on thinks of this fic. So, please leave a review.  
After rubbing her shoulders until Celeste was sighing with contentment, Riddle put one arm over her chest, and with the other, reached into his pocket and withdrew his 13 ½ inch yew wand.

"So, what do you wish to talk about?" Celeste asked, very much pleased how unlike the other times, Riddle wanted to talk before doing sexual intercourse. Riddle knew prolonging his urges would make her docile, starting with allowing her wish that they talk first.

"It entails a little treat for you, Celeste" he said with mystique.

Aiming straight ahead, the accio spell was cast nonverbally. An object zoomed across the cavern, from the shelf with the potions and cauldron and such. A black leather box stopped beside Riddle, and he whispered an arcane incantation, and it opened itself. It had silver designs, including an eagle emblem on the top and around the sides, serpents and scorpions.

"It has the Ravenclaw insignia! It's pretty."

"Yes, isn't it?" Riddle commented fondly. "But look what I have to entertain you, Celeste."

He removed a thin book out from the surface of the inside of the box. Abruptly, Riddle slammed the lid shut. He did not want Celeste to see any other secrets the box contained, for they would all surprise her in good time. The box was a rather expensive magical rape kit of sorts that Voldemort had purchased in Knockturn Alley last year, partly from his follower's money.

Riddle requested sweetly "Read the title, Celeste."

He peered down at Celeste's face as she recited, still snuggled over his lap "'_The Allure of the Dark Arts' Erotica_.'" Her curiosity had been piqued, for she had never heard of such.

"Now, my turn to read the introductory paragraph" Riddle flipped open the first page. "Of the many varied art forms and the exact science of the Dark Arts, we shall examine the appetite of wizard kind's primordial instincts. To observe the exquisite symmetry of the body's anatomy when subjected to magical torture. This is a journey of submersion into the darkest elements of both sexual and magical nature."

Rapidly, Riddle turned to the next page where the entire space was taken up by a picture, crafted with great attention to detail. Celeste gasped and piercing shock waves wracked her insides, including her pelvis at the horrific sight before them.

The blue-flamed candles illuminated a witch in excruciating pain. The magical pornographic black and white moving photograph, showed the woman hunched over, naked. She clutched her gashed, bloody chest, that was flattened like a pancake. For, in a bloody heap on the ground was what appeared to be each of her disembodied breast's. It was as if she had been splinched when attempting apparition. It took another moment or so, for Celeste to notice an illusory shadow of another figure, as it moved, tapping a wand threateningly on the witch's shoulder.

Riddle meanwhile, had feasted his dark eyes upon it, gradually becoming aroused, his pupils dilating. If only he knew the spell to remove body parts on a live individual!

"I can't stand watching" Celeste durmurely voiced her true reaction.

"Quiet, Celeste. Relax and listen to your inner wisdom. The pleasure of another's pain exists inside you, call it forth. Make it so that your mouth waters with virulent desire" he drawled with a soothing calmness.

Riddle turned the next page that portrayed a wizard in an upside down position, levitated into the air. He was sporting grisly injuries and another example of strangely contorted body parts. All the flesh looked to have been eaten off his face from some kind of bug infested on it, that was crawling around in the moving picture. His face was a skull visage with bulging eyes. His lips, teeth, and straggly hair remained. But below his testacles were circumscribed and instead hanging from his anus by a tail of some sort, swinging like a pendulum.

Celeste was not as disturbed as she had been by the previous picture, she just looked on with a mesmerized curiosity, her eyes moving back and forth to the tail swinging the dick. She had to admit, this area of the Dark Arts was oddly fascinating. Although unnerving, Celeste could not find within herself the apparent pleasure Riddle was getting. He now had a look of bliss on his handsome face, as his eyes narrowed.

Abruptly, Riddle put the book down and at once slid Celeste's skirt off her waist. Celeste resisted revealing to him her fear, but Riddle could smell the fear anyway.

"I only want you to masturbate."

Celeste grounded herself, yet she suddenly noticed cold sweat dampening her blouse. She unbuttoned it.

Riddle commented jokingly, "You naughty girl. You're neither wearing knickers, nor a bra."

Celeste blushed and planted an affectionate kiss on Tom Riddle's hollow cheek.

"Now stimulate your clitoris for me."

Riddle raised the book back up to their eye-levels again, to look on at the other gruesome porn inspired by the Dark Arts.

Celeste dug her hands into her warm vaginal passageway, doing her best to please Tom.

A couple of moments later, Riddle put his hand not holding the book up on top of her hands, aiding her.

"Ah, yes. I'm teaching you to enjoy it, Celeste. Like the book said, it's perfectly natural. Coincides with the most basic instincts" he lauded over his fling. Riddle did not care what the book's advice was about normalizing the images, but he knew it would help Celeste accept the book and remain at ease.

Celeste felt something growing hard under her. She surmised, Tom was having an erection.  
She giggled delightedly and Riddle dropped the book onto the ground negligently. 

"We're going to start a new little project," Riddle announced. 

VOLDEMORT the PLAYER…isn't finished with Lovegood just yet! Don't worry….he won't do anything that sick to her as depicted in the pictures….Well, I hope not. I am really trying to consider what Voldemort would like to do sexually, I don't like to imagine sex in these horrific acts….But I imagine Lord Voldemort's imagination is just this aberrant. Kind of making you forget to feel any pity for him at all in the end doesn't it?


	10. Annals of Torture

Honestly I'm not very satisfied with this chapter. Please Review. I'd appreciate it.

The Annals of Torture

Celeste did not rise from the mound of earth she was reposing on. Tom Riddle paced in front, twirling his yew wand between his long fingers. The magical rape-kit lay as a forgotten afterthought. He was muttering under his breath talking to himself. Voldemort felt that he had pinned a prisoner in a trap and he was debating what to subject the prisoner to.

His dark eyes were slits as he regarded Celeste, who looked up at him entreatingly. 

"You are not to call me Tom anymore," he quietly announced.

After these words, an ominous fluctuation seemed to occur in the rancid air. It was like Riddle was establishing his ultimate authority.

Apparently Riddle did not expect Celeste to question this at all. He thought she would understand what he expected her to call him now. So he unbuckled his belt and removed his shoes and briefs. Then went to sit on the same mounds of dirt again, this time spreading his legs a bit more, sitting upright.

"Get yourself between my legs," pointed Riddle with his wand, to the opening between his robes where his privates were exposed.

Not wanting to seem reluctant, Celeste crawled the few feet of distance forward on hands and knees. Once she arrived she kneeled expectantly, before him her toes curling. She could still feel the syrupy masturbation now sliding down her inner thighs, tickling her nude skin. Subconsciously, she rubbed it.

"What do you want me to do T-er?"

Maliciously he retorted, "You are to call me "master" at all times. Or else be punished…" 

He waited a long moment, until she finally replied, "Yes…master. I only seek to please you. Do not punish me, master!"

"You are to serve me, my whore. You shall suck, as best you can. You may begin."

"I'm not sure h-how master?," the Ravenclaw girl cried. Celeste did not confess it, but she did not know what Tom Riddle wanted her to suck. She was pure and innocent, having never given a man a blow-job or even heard of such a thing.

Celeste was still massaging her vaginal passageway, instinctively masturbating more, for the penetration that would come later.

Riddle grabbed her hands and swept them under the folds of the robe, and hissed, "This is what you suck, Celeste. Now do it."

"Yes, master," Celeste whispered nearly inaudible.

She bowed her golden head obediently and sank beneath the folds of the handsome boy's robes. She put her lips to his penis, that she could not even make out in the dim lighting of the cavern. She began by kissing it tenderly, and then remembering he said to suck she swirled her tongue around it.

After several seconds, she felt her head shoved forward. Clearly, Voldemort was not satisfied with her progress. Strong hands closed around the nape of her neck, and Celeste felt like she could not breathe. Out of fright, she sucked as hard as she could. It tasted like one of those awful blood lollipops she had had at Honeydukes, which felt like it had been years ago, as Celeste whimpered whilst struggling to suck Riddle's cock in the present. It tasted like a blood lollipop because it had filled with blood from his erection while they had read Dark Arts Erotica together.

Riddle did not let go of all his pressure, he continued to be on the precipice of choking her as she continued the sexual favour he commanded of her. Minutes later, he was about to order an end of it, when Celeste whose head thrashed under the robes violently, collided painfully with something that was in the inside pocket of Riddle's robes.

"Ouch!," she wailed. She released her lips against his warm member, and crept her hands around the inner pocket of his robes. She removed a metal crock and stopped abiding by his order.

She had already opened it, when her head emerged out of the folds that had draped her head like curtains, obstructing her view of Voldemort's pleasure.

" Essence of Murtlap, master?"

"Yes it is. I was caned in the headmaster's office," Riddle told her bluntly. It did not matter to young Voldemort if she knew of it, as she would not remember anything later. But he might as well explain why he had it on him.

Celeste was jerked back into reality. He wasn't really her master. According to her opinion, he was really just a handsome schoolboy named Tom Riddle. And who was she, but his girlfriend, another student of Hogwarts?

"Dippet?," Celeste said weakly, never imagining the old man was capable of such harsh correction.

"It was Dippet's idea that I must be caned instead of detention. All to ensure, I maintain my glowing reputation. But no, Dumbledore…he's the teacher who-who…" Heat crept up Riddle's neck, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, it's horrible. It must hurt. Let me smooth some of the murtlap onto where he struck you. Tom, please?"

Celeste scooped more of it from the crock, expecting Riddle to reveal his backside and allow her to smooth it over his buttocks.

Retaliating, Celeste's offer Riddle squeezed one of her nipples and Celeste screamed for an instant. He then cupped the boob, and pulling it, yanked her over his knee.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to help. Make you feel better…Are you going to spank me, Tom?"

Celeste wasn't scared, just genuinely concerned. It didn't bother her if, Tom Riddle wished to punish her through a spanking. Celeste had been spanked in this fashion as a child by her father, even when she had been as old as sixteen. She had grown to accept the temporary discomfort without crying.

Riddle did not answer, she would see what he had in store for her in a moment. "The caning did not bother me, Celeste. I do not require assistance. Sex will actually feel much more enjoyable proceeding Dumbledore's chastisement. It's the pleasure and pain principle…"

There was a flash of red light, and Riddle had yelled, "Crucio!"

Celeste huddled across the boy Voldemort's lap, in paroxysms of agony. It was infinitely worse than a spanking could ever be. Celeste had never imagined how the Unforgivable torture curse seeped all the way into one's bones, wracking your entire body at once.

Riddle did not lift the curse, as he observed her calmly. The palms of his hands, on top of each buttock, smiling.

He lifted the curse, and listened to her cries, lessen gradually. She was like a wounded animal.

"Soon you shall get another dose of pain," he whispered.

Celeste continued to have tears coming down her face, and she hadn't stopped pounding the ground with her feet, as she lay sprawled across the awful boy being punished in a way she thought Riddle would only joke about. As she recalled, in the dungeons, last week when he playfully spanked her during anal sex, she thought he had been bluffing when he said the cruciatus would be next time.

"Now, I'm going to torture you again, little girl. I'm warning you that if you scream I'll gag you. Let's see if you can build up a threshold."

He raised his wand again and Celeste could barely prevent herself from screaming. Riddle's cold hands, still resting placidly on her quivering buttocks. After drinking in the scene, filling with sexual desire, he finally relinquished the curse. It was always best for him to build up his sexually acts, beginning with torture. She had managed not to scream, but to squeal instead as she pounded the dirty floor.

The best or worst of this is yet to come…I still have plenty more of this scene under the statue of the one-eyed witch. I plan to write more soon. Sorry it's been such a long time.


	11. Descent Into Madness

Sheherazade: Thanks for reviewing. Riddle is very harsh, and I imagine his sexual activities to get even more imaginative than the cruciatus curse in this fic.

Chapter Eleven: Descent Into Madness

Celeste was still straddled over Riddle's lap, when he grabbed her hair, arching backwards so that it curved her spine. Shifting his weight, rising and gripping handfuls of Celeste's dirty-blonde hair, pulling her over to the center between the passage walls.

Her thin frame was thrown back, where she plopped safely. It was an instinctual magical defense from hitting the ground hard. It felt like she was on a bed at the mercy of the dominating wizard, Tom Riddle, whom she was certain was about to rape her. Her hands and feet rested spread-eagled, thankful that at least they were not bound.

Out of nowhere, Riddle decided on retrieving his rape-kit. He said the arcane incantations, once again to open the lid with the eagle and scorpion emblems engraved on it. He took a little test tube out that had a clear potion inside.

He opened the stopper and rapidly put a few drops of the clear, sulphur-like scented potion on his penis once again, so that his sperm would not work during intercourse. At the bottom drawer, was next extracted something so fast it was a silver flash.

Riddle pounced down on top of his victim, Celeste could feel tingling, cool breath creep down her neck, making even her veins shiver. In an instant the tip of a blade was pointing purposefully at the crown of her head, whilst his wand loomed in his other hand.

In her terror, Celeste hicupped, as prevention of full blown hyperventilating. "You're…there's only word for it, Riddle. EVIL."

"Some may call it that. It matters not what I am. Other than the most powerful Dark Lord there will ever be."

Celeste's opalescent blue eyes widened in shock. She could not comprehend how a human being could be capable of carelessness at being called evil. Yet she did not know that Tom desired to be the manifestation of the very opposite of a human being through having horcruxes.

Without even a second to think, the wand was pulling what felt like threads out of her skull, to rest on top of her scalp. In an seconds, there were several of them nestled in her hair like cobwebs.

"Wh-what are you d-doing? Please Riddle, don't stab me with the knife!"

Voldemort laughed high and cold in response to her compunction regarding knives.

" This knife is more tool than weapon. Although with me those words are interchangeable. Meaning, the Dark Lord's weapons are to be his tools like my wand is. So I am extracting your memories, Celeste. For your master only wishes to examine something."

Riddle pressed himself closer into Celeste's body, seductively as he sneered, "You should be thanking me on bended knee for the privilege to experience such intimacy with me."

Celeste saw his thick, curved brows, forehead, and eyes glower into her, and then his full lips move closer. His lips an inch from kissing her mouth, when Celeste was surprised by a collision inside her skull, as if she had hit a wall.

Entering the foray of her consciousness seeing the most recent events. Celeste sharing a laugh with her friends in the Ravenclaw common room. Celeste pecking Tom Riddle on the clean-shaven cheek that day they went into the mirror passage. Then it moved forward to the point where she had the ferocity to slap him in the face. Onward he went, jumping through the time and space of Celeste's point of view until he got as far back as age five, when she had enjoyed wearing a special robe that she had pretended she was little red riding hood in.

Finally he removed himself from Celeste's private space, although Celeste had not felt violated.

"Where is the darkness? I wish to witness some of your deepest fears and you show me none. But of course, I can…"

"Imperio!" He invaded her mind once more.

Celeste's eyes had gone blank, and a feeling of docile hazyness shot through her. Tom Riddle, on the other hand felt a surge of power from the nerves of his brain into his arm linked to his wand, once he delivered the curse.

Celeste heard through her ears as if an echo through tunnels, "Show me your deepest fears, Celeste."

She struggled to obey as she focused on them, but her mind still pondered how. She felt like screaming how to reveal them to the voice. Or was she to act them out? Something slashed and gnawed at her head. Making cuts as it shaved away at her exposed memories and somehow she knew to simply think about them. It wasn't hard. Not when the gnawing at her skull, made her think of the possibility of it. One of her worst fears was blood and gore. She did not like to think about it at all, but suddenly she was thirteen again, on the day she had confronted her phobia of blood in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She saw a mass of mutilated body parts in a picture when they had been studying Red Caps, the creatures who hung around places where blood had been shed.

Riddle peered into the memory eagerly, as he continued to weave through whilst simultaneously, using his wand as an instrument to pull out memories as if they were going to be placed in a Pensieve and then attacking them with the miniature ornate knife. He did so, in order to make her focus on what he ordained while issuing commands through the Imperius curse.

"Reveal your worst secrets to me," he ordered his mouth dripping with carnal pleasure. Celeste's fear had awakened his hunger for what he planned to do with her later.

Automatically Celeste complied with the voice, and she was witnessing in speeded up time one of her most unpleasant memories.

She saw herself plead melodramatically, "It's not my fault. I had to get out of there or they would have torn me to pieces."

Her friend, who had listened to Celeste's words, had eventually come to her aid, and even understanding. But Celeste had to stay with the knowledge that it was all a lie. The truth was that she had deserted them for selfish reasons, just to get herself what she wanted, which was a chance to date Tom Riddle.

She betrayed her friend for personal gain. In return her friends had really just been leftovers to her in comparison to the offers from the Slytherins, who just happened to be members of Riddle's cult. And her friends had suffered the consequences of the boy's bullying, while she had went scot-free and what was worse her friends did not even realize that she had betrayed them through the bargain she struck.

And then unexpectedly free of the grasp that had been over her mind for the last several minutes. The Imperius curse was lifted and Riddle was not using Legilimency anymore either. Celeste struggled to open her eyes, but there was foam in them, as well as her mouth and ears. The foam was silverly and neither liquid nor gas. It was replications of her memories that had been forced out through the Imperius curse.

She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles as if she had been crying, and sputtered out the last of the foam from her mouth, and raised her head, which felt like a magnetic rock had been resting on it, sapping Celeste of her will power.

The first thing, frankly the only thing she could see now, was Tom Riddle, a vapor like shadow in the black candlelight. He was smiling, his lips curling, twisted and cruel. He was ready to ravish her.


	12. Primitive Instincts

Chapter Twelve: Primitive Instincts

The black flamed candles illuminated the depths of the valley in the secret passage. Celeste Lovegood, immobilized by sheer fear was trapped by the boy Voldemort on top of her. Somehow, he looked even more sexually aroused than he had had previously.

As if a signal, Tom Riddle snapped his fingers. Instantly a roaring red fire engulfed them. The flames were nearly scorching the skin, so close to Celeste's body, yet it did nothing to discomfit Riddle.

Quite the contrary from discomfitting him, an entranced red gleam filled his handsome, onyx-like irises. His pale skin glowed pearly-white from the heat of the flames and the full lips all but disappeared as he smiled almost bestially, nostrils flaring. There could be no doubt that fire quenched Lord Voldemort's desires.

"Are you going to fuck me or not, Riddle?!," she demanded.

To Celeste it was like that challenge had come out of someone else's mouth, as she was now so terrified she could no longer be totally present. It was as if it was fast becoming a dream, or in other words a nightmare.

"Of course, I shall fuck you pure-blood waste…Past point of endurance, so shall it be" he concluded silkily, as an ominous warning.

His wand shot upward and over Riddle's left shoulder was conjured a venomous green python.

Riddle seemed to have complete lack of fear, despite a snake towering over him from behind.

"Descend and coil" whispered the voice of Tom Riddle in parseltongue.

Several seconds later, the snake that was about six feet long, had maneuvered itself without touching the encompassing fire. Out of curiosity, the snake whipped around the corner to see it's master. Celeste wanted to scream, but would not, understanding how that would place her in even greater peril.

He purred in a silky tone, "Wrap around it's middle."

Celeste felt the heavy, smooth masss of the python slide over her and it started entwining her torso.

"No" she gasped.

"Yess…," retaliated Riddle to the unknown, foreign language to Celeste. "Hold her…Hold her."

It continued to wrap itself up through her breasts, until the serpentine head lay quiescent at the base of her neck, at any moment it could strike to kill.

She felt something else slide over her, powerful muscular. It was Tom Riddle, ravenous in the consumption of her insides. He fucked with a ferocious fervor, unrelenting.

Celeste could feel the air being squeezed out of the lungs. She could no longer be afforded the luxury of crying out in pain. It was like a silencio charm was on her, so unusually powerful she could barely take a breath.

He continued to writhe, moving in and out at an alarming pace, so that it wracked her flesh. Celeste considered herself contaminated scum with a priminitve animal forcing her into submission, but satisfying Riddle through absolute control.

All too soon, Riddle's dark eyes were gazing into Celeste's blue ones, his hands gripping so hard all she could feel was her skull.

Distorted images were becoming clearer in her mind's eye.

Appearing against her will was a vision she could never have imagined or seen before. Obviously, the external force invading her mind was doing it. There was blood drizzling and oozing down a river.

Celeste could not react to her worst phobia by screaming. Riddle savored, listening rapt to her internal screams. The howling in her mind was like an entertaining concert, music to the boy Voldemort's ears.

She saw bodies floating into the water…bodies that were friends and family.

Oh, how she needed to scream! Yet all she could do was listen to high-pitched, cold laughter build up to a shrill, insane proportion.

She saw another image of her friends and family lined up before the bloody river bound by ropes, about to be executed. Not in the normal wizarding fashion through Avada Kedavra. Rather the bodies were hacked off by other faceless wizard's wands. They lay defeated on the ground, dismembered. Her mother, without eyes or nose, and finally the whole head being severed off. Then all Celeste's friends getting a similar treatment, until they were finished. Left to roll like logs, until they rotted down the churning river.

It was to a point where it was becoming reality to Celeste and she had to believe that what she was observing was true.

A voice from outside instructed, "This is punishment for your betrayal…Unfortunately, we have not the time to watch as they slowly drowned…because of you."

Celeste then saw herself in the reflection of the river, whole and alive. But seconds later, she thought her organs were being attacked senseless by a creature. The urge to scream and knowing it was impossible was torture enough. But then, she was skidding down the bank of the river to join her dead companions.

After several moments, Celeste wanted to beg for death but she found she could still sustain herself, could still fight. She did not know what gave her this strength.It was a tiny voice that that Riddle could not detect. Maybe it was her conscience, telling her she would survive, but still he was tearing her mind apart, and soon he might unhinge it completely.

She was driven to madness, the agony excruciating. Riddle was just about finished extracting the last drop. With a zealous drive to kill Celeste, whilst still sliding in and out of her bruised sex, he let go issuing a piercing scream.

Voldemort had had orgasm, enjoying the entire process leading up to it immensely.

Panting and leering at his victim below, Riddle waved his wand like a baton. Celeste was lifted eerily into the air like a puppet hoisted by the ankles. She was strangely bound by nothing but magic.

The snake coiled itself gradually from midriff, chest and torso. It moved over to where Riddle now stood with Celeste beside him, hanging upside down.

As part of the python climbed to rest on Riddle's shoulders, he directed his wand to twirl Celeste. She spun, gaining momentum until it knocked her unconscious.

He ended the rotating of her thin frame. With long fingers, he caressed down her spine, grazing down to her buttocks. He turned the inert body round, and plunged his cock into her anus.

For a couple of minutes, he tore at her insides from the back, whilst simultaneously holding her feet that stuck out in front of his handsome face. He massaged them, even sucked the toes, and smelled them for a brief interlude. Clearly, Tom Riddle had some sort of foot fetish.

Once he was done humping, he dropped her down, the head impacting the dirt, where later she would find a big, temporary bump on the crown of her head near the hair clip she had placed in specially for the evening.

"Epera Evanesca," Riddle whispered aloud, and the snake vanished into the fire and the fire disappeared along with it.

Beside the still unconscious Celeste, Riddle focused his mind on precisely what he was about to cast: "obliviate."

A blue light shot forth and through Celeste's brain. He had wiped her memory of the whole incident. 

Tom Riddle, vowed silently to himself how nobody could ever brag about shagging Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, and nobody at Hogwarts ever did.

_(There will be proably only be one more less graphic chapter. Thanks for reading and please reivew)._


	13. Reviving and Confunding

Chapter Thirteen: Reviving and Confunding

Tom Riddle's mind was calm and rational, clearing out the space in the cavern. Grains of dirt dispelled like sawdust from the tiny knife, returning the magical rape kit back on the shelf next to supplies for experiments. Also returned, was the clear potion he'd used as a contraceptive. Before closing the lid on the ornate, leather box of scorpions and eagles Riddle took out an empty test tube.

Opposite this wall, his other clothing besides the robes he was wearing were there. Rapidly, he dressed back into a crisp, white shirt, gray sweater, tie and blazer with briefs, pants, belt, shoes and socks. Voldemort had always longed to be a fancy dresser to impress. Once he had been free of the orphanage's tutelage and gotten himself some money through his cult, he had managed a new, small wardrobe to wear. As a very little boy, he had hated looking like the orphans in the wretched gray uniform, all the time aware how according to his view, he was practically a different species from them.

Raising his wand to his temple, out came a delicate, gossamer strand. Riddle curled it around the tip of his wand, and popping the stopper of the empty test tube, it plunked down into the bottom, alive with a bright blue light. Riddle slid the test tube back inside the deep pocket inside his robes where the Essence of Murtlap was, along with several silver sickles.

His dark eyes darted to Celeste Lovegood, curled in a heap in the center between the black-flamed lit walls. Swiftly he crouched down, beside her. Zooming across the passage to him through the accio spell, with a jab of his wand, arrived all of Celeste's clothing: shoes, a blouse, skirt, and robes.

He dugs his hands inside the pockets to find remnants of dried herbology plants. Apparently, Celeste had had that class today or maybe the Ravenclaw had an interest in the subject. Either way, Tom Riddle didn't care. He just groveled through, feeling around for anything valuable and also a token he would take as a "souvenir", meaning something that seemed particularly personal to her. He managed to rob ten galleons off of her, and finally at the pit of her pocket, he extracted what he thought was only a silver sickle. It turned out to be a miniscule charm of a unicorn. Riddle examined it in the misty light with a satisfied smile. Here was the perfect little item to serve as a symbol, representing his latest victim. The magical creature of innocence and purity was indeed the unicorn. He had, indeed taken from her purity and innocence. Then with a jingle, he dumped it all in his pocket, the pillage had just been an added bonus compared with all he had gotten to do to her.

He watched Celeste for a few seconds, wondering if it would be more convenient if he left her there. Probably not, as he needed to make sure he was never caught. Determined to wake her up, he raised his hand, wand-free. A stinging slap landed across her already flushed face, turning it even pinker. Remembering how she had slapped him once, and out of a desire to return that deed, the boy Voldemort walloped the must forceful slap he could muster across Celeste's face.

With the following slap, her eyes opened. Riddle's finely carved features were the first thing she saw.

"W-where am I? What happened, Tom?"

"Get dressed," he sibiliantly ordered, ignoring the curious inquiries.

She sat up on her elbows immediately, and turned her head around searching for her clothes. Her head and most of her body was aching, it was like she was hungover from drinking alcohol in excess.

Celeste managed to button up her blouse after several moments. Meanwhile, Riddle observed with an increasingly amused expression.

On wobbling legs, Celeste stood. Repeatedly she bent over trying to pull the skirt up without falling down from dizzyness.

Once again, she toppled over and stood up again. He mocked, nastily "You'd think a pureblood would have more strength than this. Get those rags you slobbered over on yourself…. You don't want me touching you... if you know whats good for you."

At the third attempt, Celeste managed to wrap the skirt past her shoes, and up around her slim waist. The skirt was wet from masturbation, which was what Riddle was referring to as slober.

With that, Riddle had the candle-lights turned off magically with a whirl of his wand. Frightened, Celeste scampered over to him, and he ignored her.

In total darkness, Riddle suddenly remembered his routine precaution to rid the last magic he performed, chiefly used to wipe his wand whenever he used Unforgiveable curses. "Deletrius," he muttered as a habit, even though it was unnecessary with his prodigious, prodigical skill to say it aloud.

Celeste was still scared in the dark, and she also lit her wand like Voldemort. She raced up, behind his shoulders and grabbed his upper arm, clinging to it. He resisted, shaking her off like an irksome fly. Now that his so-called fling with her would be ended, he would not permit the behavior he had put up with before.

They climbed up a hill, Celeste becoming weakened and continously moaning for Tom to wait up. 

Riddle turned around and casted the Silencio charm upon her throat. He was going to do that to her later, just in case she started demanding questions once they got out of the secret passage. He could not have anybody's suspicions aroused, of whoever they would pass while in the corridor.

Celeste kept tripping over the clumps of dirt and roots, whilst Riddle breezed past them almost airily. Once they got up the ladder and onto the ladding by the shoot, Riddle scourgified both his robes and Celeste's so that there wouldn't be any evidence that they had not been in the castle's strictly enforced boundaries at the time.

Riddle raised his wand up and casted the homenum revelio spell that detects human presence. They had to wait a minute, as a few people went the vicinity outside the statue, and then with the territory clear, Riddle pushed Celeste up muttering "dissendium." The witch's hump became a chasm and they both emerged and set off.

They crossed the castle for several minutes, going up several stair-wells, through tapestries and such. Until they came to Ravenclaw tower. Suddenly, Tom Riddle aimed his wand at the back of Celeste's head and came up behind her whispering in her ear, "You will not remember being with me this evening at all. You believe you went to the Ravenclaw common room alone."

He had just performed a Confundus charm over Celeste, which was needed so she wouldn't remember their trek back to safe territory. Even if she already did not remember the tortortous sexual acts performed on her ealier, he could not risk her remembering or understanding what happened to her.

Next, he placed a supremely powerful form of disillushionment over himself that rendered him invisible.

They took the correct stairwell that led to the Ravenclaw's common room. The confundus charm, only made Celeste's motor skills deteriorate even more. She stumbled up the stairs like a drunk, Riddle the unseen force prodding her along with his unseen wand.

When they reached the summit, Riddle grasped the bronze eagle knocker on the varnished, wooden door. A serene, clear voice asked, "Which is more vital: time or space?"

"They are not contingent upon each other, for time is an illusion moving through space," answered Riddle dryly after merely a second's thought. He had already developed an opinion on this, studying magic so extensively. Time and space were very important to magical theory.

"An excellent insight," the voice from the eagle knocker praised but still sounding impartial.

The door opened and Celeste went through in a daze. Riddle still invisible, bounded down the narrow stairwell and out of sight.


	14. The Boy Voldemort's Pensieve

Chapter Fourteen: The Boy Voldemort's Pensieve

Several minutes later, after Tom Riddle had returned Celeste Lovegood to Ravenclaw tower, he entered the trophy room once again. There was no door to close that could have served to obstruct passer-bys' view, so Riddle vigilantly examined the vicinity. He did not need to worry, as it was an unlikely event to be disturbed at this late hour as only the few prefects and teachers were allowed in the corridors now.

Turning his back, he faced all the awards Hogwarts students had been bestowed throughout the centuries. He stood at the exact place when Celeste had met him earlier this evening.

With the same cups caressed and stared into earlier, Riddle prodded his wand over the rims. The wand lightly tapped against three of the large, shining trophies as Riddle nonverbally casted "specialis revlio." It was next to impossible that anyone else, besides Riddle would possess a logical reason to do this spell on the inside of an old trophy cup. Next, was removed other protective enchantments, he had placed over the object at a previous date.

The boy Voldemort bent over, and dipped his black-haired head towards the circular brim where nearly a dozen gossamer strands swirled, each immersed in a membrane of light, alive. He planned to delve in for one last indulgence, but then stopped, recalling how it was almost past the curfew alloted to a fifth year prefect, and besides, it really was not necessary. True, he had warped Celeste's memory and distorted her sense of time, yet his time was clear, well aware he did not have much of it left. Riddle reasoned it prudent to go back to the Slytherin quarters and study before his usual bedtime in the midnight hour instead of watching another time and place he had already experienced.

So Riddle raised his head and gave the memories in his private pensieve one last swirl, the wand still in his hand. A random image appeared like a bubble in the circular cup, until it expanded like a flat balloon. Swaying in the light inside the container, was revealed a girl of eleven whose face was contorted into a stupid, disturbing expression. That had happened in Riddle's third year, when some victims had become sexual for the first time, for Riddle had felt himself driven towards rape as he entered puberty. The first year's memory had been damaged permanently from the negligent work with the obliviating spell. Whatever had commenced to require Tom Riddle to wipe the memory, it had been their only encounter. The poor little girl, was carted off to St. Mungo's without anyone being the wiser. Riddle had learned to be more exact in future, so as not to spark an investigation. He had also fucked a few young wizards, despite the minimal sexual pleasure, there was the powerplay and dominance of it because, according to his view, men were the stronger, more important gender.

Yet tonight, tonight had it's limits. The boy Voldemort could not celebrate and reflect on the past. From his inner pocket was retrieved a glass vial. There was the actual memory of what was done to Celeste Lovegood. Riddle pulled the stopper and extrapolated the truth of what he had done to Celeste, a truth she would never know, but still she would bare unexplained, emotional scars.

It emptied into the other memories inside the large trophy cup. The memory expanded like the other one had done prior, overlapping all the others inside the cup until it resembled a flat balloon, floating. It showed Celeste, spread-eagled in the dirt and darkness, whilst Riddle was conjuring the serpent to join the fire that had circled them before.

A copy of what Voldemort had done, settled in with all the other sexual acts, going under the surface, though of course he still remembered every one of them in the present. At once, all the other memories popped forward in miniature bubbles as if to welcome the new addition. Riddle observed for a moment, his chest puffing with pride. A dozen faces were shown, evincing varying degrees of agony and confusion. A few had a yoke chain wrapped around their necks'. The yoke chain was something not harnassed from the magical rape kit this evening.

Silently, Riddle promised himself that when he got an award as would surely happen, he'd fill it with all the memories. He thought how his victims were afterall, Lord Voldemort's trophies. It would fit perfectly to rest exclusively in his domain because Riddle believed his future trophies to be the most remarkable and special of all the other trophies in the school.

Abruptly, he hissed the incantation to put an impenetrable, unseen wall on top of the contents of the three shining cups. This was one of the protective enchantments removed earlier, that was in place so this unconventional pensieve wouldn't spill.

The next protection was a bedazzling hex, which made objects invisible. Riddle always reapplied the hex when he visited the trophy room to ensure the invisibility would not wear off. The memories disappeared from the detection of the senses. Even though there was still a magical trace, nobody would expect anything less than magic to be sensed from Hogwart's awards.

Someone else could be heard, their footsteps shuffling outside the trophy room, slowly approaching. Riddle resisted the urge to jump, but turned around. He reached for his wand instinctively to place a disillushionment charm over himself. But before he could do so, a balding, thin man in ceremonial, academic black robes was standing in the doorway. It was the Headmaster, Armando Dippet.

Fleeting shock came across handsome Tom Riddle's face to see his Headmaster out of the study at such a late hour and in the trophy room, which was quite a distance from the stone gargoyles. It was a scary coincidence, considering.

"Good evening Professor Dippet" acknowledged Riddle politely as he began to use the strongest Occlumency just in case Dippet was a Legilimens, but the reality was that he was not.

"But what are you doing in the trophy room?..Yes you are a prefect, though curfew is up in ten minutes. You know the rule: ten o'clock on weekdays."

"Yes, Headmaster. I have been aspiring to get the highest honor at Hogwarts sometime within the next few years. It would complement my…record, sir" Riddle explained with flawless decorum in defense of himself, his silver prefect's badge gleaming in the ambience.

Yet he wished he had not brought up his record. It would surely remind Dippet of the episode of harsh castigation that occurred just last night. The main reason he had been caned was to prevent others learning that Tom Riddle, "the Golden Boy" of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had got detention and that it would have been forced onto his record.

Dippet observed Tom standing in front of him, the beady eyes becoming mildly shrewd, but into a shrewdness that was understanding.

"And I promise you shall," addressed the old man in a friendly tone. "You are a fine young man…and even after yesterday's embarrassing er-… I have faith in your honesty and integrity, my boy."

And now Riddle was acutely aware and even painfully cognizant of yesterday evening. Using a slighter form of Legilimency, Riddle saw that Dippet had briefly pictured, when he was bent over the table, as Dumbledore had applied seven strokes. The price he payed for his glowing reputation to be preserved was suddenly palpabe physically. There was an odd tingling across the welts.

Riddle could not leave until Professor Dippet allowed him to, as he was directly in front of the only exit and for the reason that also, it would show enormous disrespect to depart without his superior's dismissal.

"Well…Good night, Riddle. And get to where you belong, in the Slytherin's quarters. If you're caught out of bed out of hours, I don't want to hear that you were put in detention...Because then I shall have to intervene," he added warningly.

The Headmaster meant that if Tom Riddle was given another detention, it would mean another alternative arrangement in the Headmaster's office, in which he would have to endure the rattan cane again or something similar.

But Professor Dippet hardly moved an inch to let his best pupil pass.

Riddle shook his head fervently. "I…Yes, sir" he mumbled, almost sounding guilty.

Never in his life had he been at such a loss for words, he had always been such a silver tongue. He felt belittled in that moment, despite being several inches taller than Armando Dippet. He could not deal with the way Dippet could talk down to him. As he past the old man and headed for the corridor to the dungeons, young Voldemort wished he could curse Dippet into oblivion.


	15. Empowerment

Chapter Fifteen: Empowerment

Approximately five minutes after the encounter with the Headmaster in the trophy room, Tom Riddle strode with a sense of purpose across the castle's foyer. At the front of the main staircase, was a prominent stone statue of a giant boar. Behind the statue, steps led off towards a pathway to the Slytherins' lodgings.

As Riddle turned to go back to where he belonged, a whooshing of majestic purple robes was accompanied by a deep voice with the tone of askance in it, "What are you doing out this late, Tom?"

Riddle looked to see the source. He was not surprised to see it was Professor Dumbledore as there was no mistaking him. The old, yet energetic man sauntered close to the boy, coming from the direction that led off to the Great Hall.

Riddle equivocated feeling the piercing blue-eyes staring into him like he was being x-rayed. Swallowing hard, he looked directly back into his teacher's eyes with a challenging expression, whilst employing Occlumency. 

"…The usual, sir. Errands and the like….," Riddle paused and continued with increasing intrepid confidence, "I just spoke to the Headmaster during my prefect duties. Professor Dippet witnessed me-"

"Whatever you say you did, Riddle it's merely stretching the truth to defend yourself. Now, I may be the only staff member at this school who understands what goes on during your leisure time is far from innocent, but I intend to find out what these nasty, illicit activities are. In light of yesterday evening, it is obvious to me that you don't learn from your mistakes OR from punishment. Now, curfew ends in less than three minutes, so unless you desire another hypothetical detention, meaning the infliction of the cane at a future time, get to bed immediately."

During the diatribe, a look of pure malevolence had transformed onto the boy Voldemort's face. He could care less about being caned again. That was not a threat that could be hung over his head and it did not make him apprehensive. Nor did he plan to change his behavior, despite Dumbledore's suspicions. Tom Riddle would be resilient and grow in his cunning tactics, becoming an even better liar in the process. 

"I am issuing this as a warning. If questioned by Dippet as to my opinion on what you are, I shall not lie for you Riddle. For that would be being your friend, and I am afraid that I am not. "

"I am positively fine with all that, sir and you having nothing on me. Good night," Riddle issued with cold aggression, striding carelessly past the Deputy Headmaster and down the stairs toward Slytherin.

Soon he was passing through the wall that shape-shifted into a door with a simple spell. He breezily went past skulls lining the insides of the threshold. Inside the center of the common room, waterfalls cascaded against the windows, as it was under the black lake. The light from them was a muddy green that lit the room. He was glad to see it was deserted and that none of the followers of his cult were around. He was not in the mood to be bothered with them.

A tunnel led to the boy's dormitories and Riddle was soon inside the room he shared with two other fifth years, Avery and Rabastan Lestrange. The hangings over their beds were shut, and the room was dark. It was obvious they were sleeping. 

He moved to undress himself, taking out a plain nightshirt. He removed all his clothing, until he was naked. The welts across his buttocks and the welt across the crevice between his buttocks and thighs were still present. But they were finally beginning to feel raw and slightly sore instead of the burning, glowing sensation. Riddle did not pause to ponder this difference, but rather thought to himself how dittany could not repair the damage for him. His reasoning being that there was no blood spilt when he was caned and therefore no wounds to close. All this meant dittany's purpose would be negated. Yet he silently vowed to himself that the humiliating event of the prior night would never happen again. Tom Riddle would do all he could to prevent Dumbledore from poking his nose where it did not belong.

So in eagerness, Riddle knelt at the foot of his own bed in the far corner. He opened the trunk that held most of his belongings. On a shelf inside it was a mag-pie like assortment of seemingly miscellaneous objects. There were already several dozens. It was the same concept of the cardboard box he had used in the orphanage. The habits of Voldemort had at the most basic level never changed. Some as minor as candy wrappers others more significant looking like a wristwatch. All of them represented the same though: a victim. And to the boy Voldemort, he savored the pleasure he had got from hurting each and every one of them.

He dug into his pocket of his robes draped over the bed and took out the unicorn charm. Pressing it possessively to his lips, it was placed with the others almost tenderly into the shelf on the trunk. The symbol of a unicorn represented perfectly how the boy Voldemort had taken Celeste's Lovegood's purity, even if she did not know it, the girl would never feel clean again.

But Tom Riddle felt empowered as he dove under the comfortable feather mattress, filing with intense pride and dominance once again. He could almost forget about being caned, from the harsh ritual he imposed on Celeste. And as Riddle drifted off to sleep, his thoughts drifted back to his parentage. An urge to kill consumed him. His fantasies had elevated from rape and torture to a cold, murderous feeling of fury in his heart. The teenage Voldemort was more than prepared to go after his muggle father this summer and to get away with it all. It would be a perfect murder, so perfect his connection to it would never be traced, and his glowing reputation would never be put into question. 

The end. Riddle was never caned or any other corporal punishment ever again. He managed to avoid it. Please review. I do plan on editing this for minor plot changes to make it better but nothing major.


End file.
